


I Call It Magic

by Mars_Kitten



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Blood and Injury, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I blame myself, M/M, More tags later I guess..., Mythical Beings & Creatures, Slow Burn, Swearing, so much swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10873737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mars_Kitten/pseuds/Mars_Kitten
Summary: “Have you ever entered the Trials, Lance?”Lance frowns. “No, they're not my thing.” Yeah, showing off using his magic and skills to complete a series of tasks to win a medal and bragging rights for years on end are not his thing at all. Okay, fine, they totally are! But Lance hadn't been old enough to enter them before. Too bad it isn't an option now with his magic all messed up – and oh boy, Headmaster Alfor is going to suggest Lance competes this year, isn't he.“You should enter it. Maybe some friendly competition will help you.” Surprise, surprise.Or..Lance is a water witch, Keith a fire witch and they do not get along.





	I Call It Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've written in years! Holy crap
> 
> Enjoy and before reading please keep in mind that English is NOT my native language and I don't have a beta reader for this yet...

 1.1

  
Lance hadn't meant for the ball of water to go flying across the classroom and hit their teacher in the face. He'd only been messing around with some spells; trying them out, feeling how his water responded to him. A bubble was easy to conjure up, his wand in one hand and the other raised. It hadn't taken long for him to form the bubble, letting it float in the space between his hands. It went well, so he started to play around with it, inflating it, separating it into smaller bubbles and then merging them again. Lance had been fiddling with the shape when Pidge kicked him in the shin. He'd been using all of his concentration, forgetting the world around him as he watched the water swirl, so when he felt the sudden pain he'd jumped and the bubble flew.

The drenched Professor Montgomery had taken one look at Lance's horrified face and ordered him to go to the Headmaster's office after class, while Pidge snickered.

This was a thing he and Pidge did; they keep score on how many times they got the other in trouble, but never by anything severe or dangerous, though. It's all for fun; a bit of competition. Lance enjoys it, at least, even though he'd had to give up his free afternoons too many times for his liking, but he gets even with her. Maybe he'll mess with her in Herbology class some time; they'd be dealing with mandragora's soon – the less harmful baby mandragora's, that it. Not the deadly grown ones.

So, at 6 in the afternoon, Lance sits on a creaky chair waiting for the Headmaster to call Lance into his office. He's slouching in the chair while trying to look everywhere else but the menacing stare of one of the founding members of the school. The old earth Grand Witch's portrait hangs directly across from him; the frame adorned with sparkling yellow and brown gemstones, the steel gray of his eyes making the hairs on Lance's neck stand up. The gems aren't the type of stones a student might own. Lance had seen Hunk's collection of gemstones on many occasions; none are as shiny and full of magic as these. The ones on the frame had undoubtedly belonged to the Grand Witch. It would explain the rich shine that indicates strong magical residue that could only linger for so long if the owner had been quite powerful.

More portraits hang on the walls: some were of the founding members, others of famous witches, but all are way better to have to look at than the earth Grand Witch. Well. Not all of them. Lance can see a glimpse of the painting of an air witch who lived in a village of trolls for three years. Unfortunately, trolls are not known for their personal hygiene. Lance swears you can see flies surrounding the man even in the painting. He shivers, thanking the Great Spirits for the bathtub waiting for him back in his dorm room.

So, yeah, there isn't anything for Lance to look at as he waits for the Headmaster. The hallway only has a couple of closed office doors and some Gothic style windows that let in the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight. The only nice thing to see is the small cluster of Balmeran crystals growing on the ceiling to Lance's left. The crystals are a common occurrence as they grow all over the school. There's a big one in the Alchemy labs and some tiny ones under the table he usually sits at in the dining hall for example. Hunk even thinks there's one starting to grow in their room. That didn't make the crystals any less beautiful though. Especially since they provide the school with extra magical quintessence, the witches can use for advanced spells. The founding members built the school between the Balmeran mountains for that exact reason.

There are drawbacks to living in the middle of nowhere, though. The last time Lance had been in an actual city had been during summer break last year, and there isn't an ocean in sight around here.

As a water witch, Lance already has a natural affinity with the sea, but he would love it even if he were born a fire witch. Lance grew up near the ocean. He'd played in the shallow parts when he was young and began diving as he got older and got deeper every day. Sure, the school has the lake made by the water Grand Witch – her portrait should be somewhere in the hallway – but it isn't the same. Lance usually goes up to the lake to float in the clear waters, or spend some time with the mermaids he befriended, not to test his limits like he used to at home. The mermaids aren't the friendliest bunch, but they eventually accepted Lance being in their water. It might have taken him a couple of trips to the medical bay, but they did.

He pats a spot on his robe that feels almost hot to the touch. They had practiced fire warding spells today in class. It has been a simple enough spell; some words and a wave of his wand. He'd done it a couple of times before on other objects to make sure he could do it in class without embarrassing himself too much. His mother would drown him if he ruined yet another set of robes. The dark colored clothes with, in his case, blue stripes around the cuffs and hems aren't cheap.

He'd accidentally shrunk his last pair – but not by magic, no. He had put them in the washing machines by the dorms and ran a way too hot program than he was supposed to since he got distracted by some girls and tried to score a date instead of paying attention to what the fuck he was doing. Lance ended up with no date, tiny robes, and a pissed off mother. Not a good day.

The door next to Lance opens, snapping him from his thoughts, and Headmaster Alfor steps out. He glances down at Lance and gestures for him to enter. Headmaster Alfor was dressed like he always was: long white robes accentuated with green that flow behind him when he walks. The clothes make him look regal, and many times people had been staring as the Headmaster seemed to glide down the hallways, hands clasped behind him and a fond look in his eyes.

Lance walks into the office, not new to seeing the shelves stacked his books and magical memorabilia the Headmaster collects. This wasn't his first rodeo; Lance gets into trouble quite a lot because of the thing he and Pidge have going on. Swords are hanging on the wall, each one looking more impressive than the other, a silver apple lies on the massive desk in a crystal bowl, and various other knickknacks of immense value clutter the room. Headmaster Alfor also has a dog. Lance can see her in a dark corner, tucked away from the light, sleeping in a cozy looking dog basket. Its four eyes are closed, forked tongue sticking out, and spikes running along its spine, protruding out of its glossy black fur. Not everyone would keep a hellhound as a pet and name it Juni, but this one is pretty nice if you don't piss it off; Hunk had even pet it once or twice.

“Mr. McClain,” Headmaster Alfor has the disappointed mom voice down to a T. Lance has chills. The Headmaster folds his hands on top of the oak desk as he looks at Lance, making the young water witch shift in his seat. A least this chair doesn't creak as much as the other one. “I'm certain you understand why you are here?”

Lance purses his lips. “Yes, sir.”

“And I'm sure I don't need to give you a speech on the importance of not soaking your teachers again.” Headmaster Alfor says, arching a white brow. A tiny air sprite that was somehow always present in Headmaster Alfor's office sits on a plant on the desk. Its head sways side to side as sparks fly off its glowing body, purifying the air around it.

Lance shakes his head, glad he can at least avoid 'the speech.' “No, sir. I can remember it.”

Headmaster Alfor sighs. “You're a good student, Lance. You come from a family of skillful water witches, and I'm convinced you'll follow in your mother's footsteps.” Lance groans inwardly. Not the talk about how amazing his family is and how lacking in skill Lance is, please. He hears this enough already from almost all the teachers. His mother works for the Government of Magical Protection and oversees all the critical missions, and she's made quite a name for herself by being the youngest witch to do so. Fairly big metaphorical footsteps Lance is supposed to follow.

Not to mention his older sister, Maria, who graduated top of her class and had job offerings piled up by the time she left this place. Or his older, Jonah, also top of his class, job offers as far as the eye could see, and currently a spokesperson for water witches on the World Council. Lance has always looked up to them – they're his role models. Disappointing them is the last thing Lance wants.

“Your little brother and sister are going to attend our school next year, correct?” Lance nods, Headmaster Alfor gives him a small smile. “And you want to be a good example for them, right?” Lance nods again because of course he does. The twins are both gifted water witches even at their young age; Lance was sure they'd do great things in the future.

“You're grades are currently average at best, Lance. You're falling behind in your magic studies and spells. If this continues, I'm not sure you'll get the best out of your time here.”

Lance knows this. He's aware that his grades are steadily dropping, and his spells weakening. It's just that lately Lance couldn't seem to resonate that well with his magic, and he doesn't know how to fix it. He's tried all the things a water witch could do to connect with their water: he soaks in his bathtub for an hour every New Moon, he sleeps with magic infused amulets under his pillow at night and draws water sigils on his skin each morning. Nothing seems to be working.

“I've heard about the problems you're having with your magic from Professor Coran,” Headmaster Alfor continues. “And I want to tell you that these kinds of things are common. It happens to everyone at some point.”

“But it's been going on for four months,” Lance argues.

“True,” Headmaster Alfor says. “It's rare for a magical disconnection to last for more than a few weeks, but I still believe there's nothing to worry about.”

“Sure..” Unfortunately worrying is the only thing Lance has been doing for the past months. Feeling disconnected from his magic may not be life threatening or anything dramatic like that, but it's still horrible. It feels like he was alone. Unwanted by his water, not good enough to keep a hold of it.

“Have you ever entered the Trials, Lance?”

Lance frowns. “No, they're not my thing.” Yeah, showing off using his magic and skills to complete a series of tasks to win a medal and bragging rights for years on end are not his thing at all. Okay, fine, they totally are! But Lance hadn't been old enough to enter them before. Too bad it isn't an option now with his magic all messed up – and oh boy, Headmaster Alfor is going to suggest Lance competes this year, isn't he.

“You should enter it. Maybe some friendly competition will help you.” Surprise, surprise.

“Maybe,” Lance frowns, scratching a spot on the back of his hand nervously. He wants to think this through for a bit first, though. “But I don't know if my magic will be good enough now.”

Headmaster Alfor gives him a smile, leaning back in his chair. “Just give it some thought, Lance. The sign up isn't starting until next week.”

“Yes, sir,” Lance mumbles, looking at Juni from the corner of his eyes as she slowly blinks open her blood red eyes and yawns, showing off her pointy teeth. Her fluffy ears twitch as she notices Lance and her tail start wagging.

 

After having raced to the dining hall for some food, Lance walks down the corridors of the dorms with a couple of books in his arms. The sun had completely set by now, the fire witches having lit the lanterns and with the Balmeran crystals, they cast the hall in a soft light. He goes left at to the boys' dorms, dodging the other students going their way. He nods to one of his classmates in greeting, who in return waves the letter he was holding. Lance knows the letter is for the guy's girlfriend back home. They'd talked about her a couple of times and how she was doing.

Sending letters is the most practical way of communicating with the outside world – the school has some well-trained owls at its disposal. When Lance enters the room he shares with Hunk and finds Pidge on the floor with her laptop in front of her he grins.

“Finally found a good spot? What are you gonna do when the battery runs out?” Lance drops the books on his desk and removes his outer robes, hanging them on the hook next to his favorite jacket. He eyes the electricity socket closest to Pidge which would be just out of reach for the charger cord to plug in. Lance can know, he sits in that exact spot when it could get a signal from time to time to call his mother. Living in the mountains meant terrible reception. The only way to go on the internet was by using a portable Wi-Fi stick like Pidge is doing and having luck with finding the rare spots that can get a signal.

Pidge groans, her slim fingers flying over the keyboard. “Stupid magic school! Usually, I'd just drain the power from somewhere else, like the metro lines back home if my power would run out.”

Pidge is an earth witch but was most skilled with plants and electricity. She's been tapping into the power lines to charge up her mp3-player or laptop ever since she was a child, and she comes by to check on their herbs once every two weeks.

Lance hums in response, making his way to the tank by the end of his bed on the dresser. He dips a finger in the water to check the temperature – a good 64 degrees – before crouching down to greet her. The creature in the tank doesn't acknowledge him in any way, but that's okay. Having a pet was a thing a lot of witches do. But while most would get a cat, dog, or even a cactus in Pidge's case – named Green, but only by Lance and Hunk – Lance had chosen for a little pink axolotl he calls Blue.

"Hi there, beautiful," he purrs lovingly.

Blue lies on a rock on the bottom of the tank while Lance continues to talk to her. Pidge snorts at him like she always does when witnessing Lance's interactions with Blue.

“It's not a dog, Lance.”

“I know that!” Lance huffs. “But she's still my special lady! Yes, you are! Pretty Blue.”

“So, how's Headmaster Alfor doing?”

Lance shoots a glare at Pidge, who only grins wickedly back at him. “It was all right, for your information!” Lance hisses. “In the end, I didn't get into any trouble.” Except for the part of Lance maybe entering the Trials. That's still a thing. Not a thing he wants to talk about right now, though.

“Huh,” Pidge's eyes narrow behind her round glasses. “Shame.”

“You little shit.” Lance returns the look, straightens up and looks around his and Hunk's room. It's a standard size room with two desks and two beds, nothing special. Lance's desk has books opened on random pages, the relevant parts highlighted with neon yellow, three mason jars with rain water he still has to purify, and the ingredients of a healing potion in a Tupperware box.

Hunk's desk is neat and organized, the books stored in the drawers or on the shelves above the bed. A couple of earth type gemstones and amulets lay on the dark oak. Hunk loves to make protective charms with small stones he finds near the base of the mountains. Lance wears a bracelet Hunk made for his birthday two years ago on his left wrist and almost never takes it off. Even now if he concentrates, he can feel the faint prickle of Hunks earth magic in the stones against his skin. It helps him calm down when he feels panic threatening to drown him; Hunk knows him well.

“Where's Hunk?”

“Huh?” Pidge looks up from her laptop screen confused. Lance gestures to Hunk's side of the room. “Oh, he's helping the kitchen staff with the dinner clean up.”

“As usual,” Lance nods because it is.

“True,” Pidge pushes her glasses back up on her nose. “So, what books did you bring with you?”

“Oh, uh,” Lance sits down on the soft blue sheets of his bed and picks one of the three books up. A book about the Trials. “Just some history books. By the way, could you check out the maidenhair fern in the bathroom real quick? I think it's about to give up on me.”

Pidge eyes him for a second before shrugging. “Sure,” She stands up and takes her wand out from inside her robes. Lance follows her to the bathroom and watches how she waves her wand over the drooping fern, mumbling a string of words under her breath. Light yellow sparks fly out of the glowing tip and fall gently on the plant. Lance can already see it heal and become healthy again. The sparks die out, and Pidge puts her wand away again. “Make sure you don't water it too much. The roots were beginning to rot.”

“Will do! Thanks.”

“Also, clean up in here some time for fuck's sake.”

Plants fill the majority of their bathroom, which they use for their spells and potions. The maidenhair, for example, Lance uses in ointments made to keep his skin clear. And like the fern, he has several plants stored on the bathroom shelves for the same purposes. There are candles on the edges, all belonging to Lance, and a nice assortment of bath bombs.

Lance gently traces his fingers over the petals of a lavender plant, purposefully avoiding looking at the sink. The mess of their potion class homework is starting to bubble; only liquid stored too long out of a jar does that. Lance doesn't need to look to know there are several stains of potion residue they can't scrub off, no matter how long he and Hunk go at it.

They also may have started storing their plants in the bathroom because of the smell the stains leave.

“What mess?”

Pidge rolls her eyes at him.

  
Pidge spends the rest of the evening in her Wi-Fi spot, typing an essay on ancient sigils used by air witches. Of course, it's supposed to be hand written, but Pidge doesn't care. She prefers her laptop. Hunk comes back around 9 and helps Lance out with studying for a Herbology test. They're supposed to study and remember the usage of 20 newly introduced plants and flowers. While Lance uses a lot of herbs on a daily basis, he never enjoys studying them like this – or studying in general for that matter.

“Catnip,” Hunk says from his spot on his bed.

Lance hums, he knows this one. “Water element, used for animal healing, and love potions.”

“Correct! Basil,”

“Fire element, used in love and prosperity potions.”

“You know what I find weird,” Pidge says. “How many herbs can be used for love potions even though those are taboo to make and use.”

Lance shrugs. “No one said the world of herbology made and sense.”

They continue like this for one more hour before Pidge loses her Wi-Fi signal and leaves to find a new spot somewhere else. As Lance lies in bed, face mask on and with Hunk's soft snores as background noise, his thoughts stray to the Trials. Maybe Headmaster Alfor is right. Maybe some competition can help his magic. But, on the other hand, what if it won't. Not only did that mean yet another failed attempt to reconnect with his water, but he could also be severely hurt if his magic failed during a challenge. The Trials are notorious for how dangerous they can get. It's why only the best students enter. Not to mention the embarrassment he would have to live through. His older brother and sister both participated in the Trials and finished them all the way through. It wouldn't look well on Lance if he had to quit halfway. He can almost see the disappointed look on his mother and father's face. Yeah, maybe he should forget about the Trials.

So, Lance does what he does best: ignore everything and lose himself in a dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

A couple of days later, Lance finds himself running down the hallway in the south wing towards the courtyard. He knows Hunk and Pidge will be there, waiting for Lance's last class before lunch to end. It's Wednesday, and that meant Sigil History; the world's number one most boring class. Lance understands the importance of sigils and knowing where each came from, but for fuck's sake! How long could one professor drone on and on about the dark ages? The guy's obsessed. Someway or another he'd always end up back to the dark ages, which is fucking insane.

Today, however, was different. Sure, the professor still had a lengthy lecture waiting for the poor bastard who had stuck his hand up to ask why they were watching a documentary about the dark ages yet again, but something else had happened. Something big.

Lance runs through the arches leading into the garden of the courtyard, finding his friends in their usual spot beneath an old oak. The gravel of the path crunches under his feet, flying up behind him, sidestepping around a girl conjuring up a palm-sized hurricane.

When his feet hit the grass, he starts yelling. “Holy shit! Hunk! Pidge! Holy fucking shit!”

Hunk startles at the loud noise, while Pidge shoots him a horrified look. People stare at the water witch dashing to the tree screaming profanities. Lance comes to a halt when he reaches his friends. He doubles over, hands on his knees, and gasps for breath.

Pidge raises a brow at him. “Why the hell are you screaming like that?”

“Give-” Inhale, exhale, “- me -” deep inhale, “- a moment.” dramatically loud exhale.

“You okay there, buddy?” Sweet, beautiful, best friend in the world, Hunk asks.

Lance nods. “Yeah, yeah, but something amazing happened!”

“Even more amazing than seeing how badly out of shape you are?” Pidge grins.

“Shiro is back!” Lance exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air. Lance can see the exact moment his words registered: Hunk gasps, Pidge nearly drops her phone and fumbles with it for a few seconds.

“Are you sure?” Hunk asks bewildered.

“Uh, yeah.” Lance deadpans. “I think I know who suddenly appeared in the middle of Sigil History, walking in like it was nothing special.”

“Holy shit.”

“Right!?”

“How did he look?” Pidge asks, setting aside her phone and laptop.

Lance sits down on the grass, trapping his outer robes under him. “I mean.. He looked fine, I guess. He got a scar on his nose now, and a white patch in his hair, but other than that he looked okay.”

“Did he say anything about his mission?”

Pidge is talking about the mission Takashi Shirogane had gone on one year ago. Her older brother and her father went with him but came back a couple of months ago without Shiro. Everyone knew about the mission of getting a litter of young Cerberus' who born in a cave in Oman to a safe location. Simple, for a talented air witch such as Shiro. So it had been a bit concerning to see Pidge's brother and father return, but not Shiro. No one knew where he was. The professors kept their mouths shut and dismissed the subject every time someone asked about it.

And today, a year after he left, Shiro came strolling back into class as if taking a walk down the beach.

“Nothing,” Lance says, leaning forward. “But get this: he can do wandless magic now!”

The two pair of eyes looking at Lance go wide. Being able to do magic without the aid of a wand is something only a witch can do after years of training. A wand has to be used as a conduit, to make sure the witch didn't hurt their selves. Lance can remember when his little sister, Isla, had performed her first spell: she used the water in the kiddy-pool while she was washing the dog in to try and make a small whirlpool, and the sparks of her magic stung her hands enough to make her cry. Lance experiences the same pain whenever he practiced using magic without a wand. The feeling of a hundred small needles pricking into the skin of his hands always got too much before he could even draw his magic fully out.

“Wow,” Hunk breaths.

“Holy shit,” Pidge mumbles.

“Right!?” Lance yells.

“I wonder what happened,” Hunk wonders, picking up the book he has next to him to store it back in his messenger bag. Pidge takes his lead and begins getting ready to head over to the dining hall, too.

“All I want to see is him doing magic,” Lance says as he stands up, readjusting the strap of his bag digging into his shoulder. “Just one spell without a wand. That's all I'm asking.”

“Didn't you have another joined class with him?” Hunk asks, and they begin walking to the arched entrance back into the south wing hall.

“Yeah, Magic Defenses tomorrow!” Lance turns around, walking backward and grinning broadly. “And I bet the professor is going to ask Shiro to show off some moves!”

“You're such a fanboy.” Pidge cackles, throwing her head back. They walk past a bush of red roses, a couple of sprites sat on the flowers, waving to Pidge. “But, I guess I'm also kind of excited to see what he can do now.” She says, throwing the sprites a small wave back. “Hunk?”

“Oh, yeah definitely!” Hunk agrees. They step back into the building, the warm temperature colder inside thanks to the bricks and shade it provides from the burning sun. Lance turns back around with a flourish and starts climbing the marble set of stairs that leads them to the dining hall. It feels cool to the touch when Lance places his hand on the banister; it reminds him of how it felt to swim in the ocean back home after a hot day. He swallows down the sudden pang of longing and looks at his friends instead.

“I hope he'll do that one spell he did,” he says. “The one where he conjured up a wind barrier powerful enough to hold off rocks; that was incredible.”

“It was,” Hunk nods.

They stroll into the ballroom-sized dining hall, Lance still animatedly talking. It has five rows of tables, stretching the entire length of the room. The hall is used, mostly, for eating, but the lively atmosphere and space has it being used for spell practice, too. Lance sees a couple of girls conjuring up water bubbles, and on the other side of the room, a boy makes a small dragon out of flames and it flys up towards the chandeliers on the ceiling, extinguishing before it can touch them. The school has practice rooms in the basements of the North wing, spacious enough for the bigger spells, but it's a long walk from the other wings, so just using the dining hall was more practical. Not to mention the lack of windows and sunshine down there; it makes for a creepy feeling.

The other place students can use for spellcasting is the arena outside, but that can get intense real quick, Lance knows from experience. He and Hunk had checked it out a couple of times, but the battles they saw where rough. Lance had tried it out, Hunk opting to sit this adventure out. He'd paired up with an air witch against two earth witches. In a matter of seconds, boulders were flying around, and he broke a sweat flinging around his wand, eyes darting to try and look everywhere around him at once in fear of being hit. It was a close call, but Lance and his partner lost. He'd been sore for days after that, and it took a while for all the bruises and scrapes to fade.

So, after that Lance only practices the big spells during their Magic Defense class and in the private practice rooms with Hunk and Pidge.

The line for food isn't that long, the other food station even being closed, and the trio joins in at the end. In under ten minutes, they'd gotten lunch and arrived at their spot up in the back near the wall. Lance slides onto the wooden bench, maneuvering his legs around the Balmera crystal, and puts his tray down.

“Or,” Lance says, pointing a fry at Hunk and Pidge sitting across from him. “What about that one spell-”

“No!” Pidge groans, throwing up her hands. “No more. We've been talking about Shiro for 25 minutes now. Enough is enough.”

“Fine,” Lance gives her a pout as she picks up her sandwich. They're silent for a moment; focusing on their food. Lance nibbles on a fry, frowning at Pidge who starts up a conversation with Hunk about one of their classes. Lance huffs and chucks a fry at them. They glance at it when it lands on Hunk's tray before dismissing it. Lance grins and throws another one, this one hitting Pidge's forearm as she rests her elbow on the table and falling on the table. Another fry flies in between them and falls to the ground. If one of the chefs saw that Lance was throwing his food around, he'd be in serious trouble. Last year he had to scrub the kitchen floor with only one bucket of water and a tiny sponge, while a chef made sure he wouldn't use his magic. He'd spent the rest of the evening on his hands and knees on a greasy floor, sweat and the lingering smell of Taco Night clinging to his clothes.

“Stop that,” Pidge hisses when a one flies over her head. Lance snickers. Pidge smirks, and a fry hits Lance in the face. She laughs at his outraged squeak and ducks out of the way of a fry missile.

“Lance!” The sweet, sounding voice has Lance turning his head, food fight forgotten. He smiles when he sees Nyma practically skipping towards him. Her robes twirl around her legs as she sways her hips, arms behind her back, smile on her face. Her blonde hair sits high on her head in a messy bun, escaped strands framing her narrow face beautifully. Lance feels his smile turn love-struck. Pidge makes a gagging noise across from him, which he steadily ignores.

“Hey, Nyma.” Lance beams as Nyma sits down beside him. She leans forward, violet eyes twinkling, and clasps both of Lance's hands in hers. Her skin is so soft, and she smells of flowers that grow on tropical islands.

“Have you heard?” She asks. “I'm entering the Trials this year!”

Lance blinks. “The Trials?”

“Yes! I've wanted to for ages, and now I'm finally the right age.” Nyma tightens her hold on his hands, squeezing them gently. “So, I'm singing in first thing next Monday.”

“That's so amazing!” Lance smiles. “I know you'll win.”

“Aw, Lance!” She giggles and Lance melts a little more. He may have been crushing on her hard ever since he met her, two years ago, but a giggling Nyma always makes Lance fall a bit more every time. “You're so sweet for saying that!”

The two smile at each other, ignoring the heaving noises Pidge is making; she does this a lot around them. Nyma takes it all in stride, not paying attention to it, but Lance would rise to the bait and give Pidge the reaction she wanted every time. The flailing, red-faced, huffing Lance never seizes to entertain her.

Nyma gasps, one of her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Oh my gosh, Lance!”

“What? What's wrong?”

“I just had the most fantastic idea ever.” She says, lowering her hand, holding it in a fist against her chest. “You should enter the Trials, too, and then we could get paired up together. Wouldn't that be great?”

“Uh,” Lance swallows the knot that forms in his throat. Crap. The retching noises stop as Hunk and Pidge silently watch him. “I don't think that's a good idea..”

“Why not, Lance.” She asks, eyes sad and the corners of her mouth turning down. Lance hates seeing women sad; it's how his sisters manipulated him into doing all their chores. He has to bite his lip from saying something stupid like that he'll join her. He hadn't had a chance to bring the subject up to Hunk and Pidge, and he wants to hear their thoughts on it before making any decision- even though he was leaning towards entering.

Lance had thought about it the past days, and to be honest; even though it was a stretch, Lance wants to try it. If Headmaster Alfor believes it could help Lance's connection with his water, why not? It isn't like it could get worse. He can still do some basic spells with ease, and he can just let his partner deal with the more complicated stuff. But, yeah, first he wants his friends' opinion.

“Sorry, Nyma.” He mumbles, eyes cast down so he wouldn't see her face. “Maybe you could ask Rolo?”

“He's not entering either.” She crosses her arms, looking to the side. “Something about it being bullshit?”

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” Nyma sighs but seems to accept the situation and looks back at Lance with a soft smile. “Promise you'll cheer for me, then.”

“Absolutely!” Lance exclaims loudly, making the girl beside him giggle. “I'll make banners and buttons; I'll be your personal cheerleader!”

The hurling noises pick up right where they left off.

 

That night Lance sits on his bed, looking a the soft glow of Blue's tank, holding a pillow to his chest. He's had a long day, and on top of the significant amount of homework he had to do all he wanted is sleep. But not yet. After Nyma had left their table, Lance made a promise with himself to tell his friends about the trouble with his magic and for their take on the whole Trials thing. He looks over at them; Pidge is sitting against the wall – the Wi-Fi spot of tonight – with her laptop on her lap, tongue sticking out in concentration as she types, and Hunk lying in bed on his side, reading a book. Nerves rise in his stomach, a heavy feeling that makes it difficult opening his mouth. He knows the words he wants to say, had rehearsed the story in his head whenever he got a bit of breathing space during the day. He would start with a joke maybe (knock knock. Who's there? Not Lance's magic! Ha!) and then slowly enter serious territory. He just doesn't want his friends to think he was weak; that he couldn't take care of things on his own. He doesn't want to be the horrible guy who leans on people too much. He doesn't want them to get sick of him and leave him behind.

So, jokes and goofy smiles.

But the coil of nerves that is starting to make it's way up to his chest, constricting around his heart like a snake, makes him breathe a little harder and the words inside Lance's head scramble.

“Uh,” his voice wavers, shaking as the snake tightens its grip. He clears his throat and tries again. “S-so, remember when I had to see Headmaster Alfor?”

Pidge looks up, shit-eating grin in place, ready for the usual banter. But it falls away, and her brows furrowed slightly, and Lance winces. Hunk stays silent as he watches with a concerned look growing on his face. Now or never.

“Well, you see,” Lance gulps, holding onto the pillow. “I've been having some problems with my magic. It's been getting harder to do anything above the beginner spells, and I feel disconnected from my water.” He sees Hunk and Pidge shift in their spots, concerned, and he shakes his head. He needs to get it all out now. “But, it's okay – well, not okay. But I'm not scared because I know it'll pass. So, yeah, that's one thing.”

“'One thing'?” Hunk asks, voice calm and as reassuring as he can make it sound.

“Well, it's not a bad thing,” Lance shrugs. “But when I spoke to Headmaster Alfor the other day he suggested I should sign up for the Trials, thinks that maybe kind of pressure helps.”

“What do you think?” Pidge questions.

“I dunno,” Lance sighs. “But, I'm willing to give it a try. I guess I just want to know how you two feel about this all..”

He sees Hunk and Pidge share a look and then a nod before turning back to Lance. The curl of nerves had slowly lessened the more he shared about his situation, and his shoulders relax at the looks on his friend's faces; soft smiles and understanding eyes.

“We just want to see you be okay, buddy,” Hunk explains. “We figured something was up, and we're glad you told us.”

Pidge snorts. “Yeah, otherwise we'd have to figure a way to pull it out of you.” Lance rolls his eyes, making her snicker. “But, seriously, man. It sucks to hear about your magic, for real. And we're sure your gonna fix it; eventually, you're good like that. And if you want to enter the Trials you can bet your ass Hunk and I will help you with anything. Do you want midnight training sessions? Done! You need advice on something. You got it. We're your friends. We're here for you whenever you need us.”

It's quiet after Pidge's speech. Hunk is smiling like a proud brother at her, and Lance is gripping the pillow watching her shrug with wide eyes. “Holy shit, Pidge.”

“What..?”

“That was..so sweet. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me! You called me your friend!!”

“Fuck off, you know we're friends.” She scowls, arms crossed.

Lance pushes the pillow aside and scoots up to the edge of his bed, leaning forward with a grin back on his face. “Yeah, but you've never admitted to it and-!” Lance pauses for dramatic effect, pointing an accusing finger at her. “-you think I'm good at what I do!”

“And you've made me regret every single word I just said,” Pidge grumbles, packing up her stuff holding onto her laptop under her arm.

“I don't care! I've got Hunk as a witness!”

“I am leaving. Good night.”

“Night, Pidge,” Hunk laughs, giving her a wave and he settles back into reading his book.

“Goodnight, friend!”

“Fuck you, Lance.”

The door slams shut behind her. Lance lets out a sigh, feeling all the tension in his body dissipate and he's left feeling boneless and relaxed. He lays down on his bed, arms behind his head and stares up at the ceiling; at the glow in the dark star stickers he put up there on his second day. Hunk had instantly called him a 'genius' and asked his mother to send him some more so they could cover the entire surface with stars, crescent moons, and planets. Lance loves glow in the dark stars. There was no wall left in his bedroom back home that didn't have a galaxy worth of stars sticking on it.

“That went well.” He mumbles, more to himself but Hunk hears him anyway and chuckles.

“What did you expect?” Hunk asks, and Lance shrugs. “Have a little more faith in Pidge and me, bud. Like she said; we're here for you. And we know you're there for us, too, when we need you.”

Lance smiles.

He wakes up the next day in good spirit; the talk with his friend last night having done him well. He's happy he told them. It might've been embarrassing admitting his problems, and this kind of a conversation was not something they all often did, but in the end, it helped him. He felt the warm feeling of hope in his chest: hope that maybe the Trials would help. He was going to try and do his best.

He gets out of bed, not even complaining about having to leave the warm nest of blankets and pillows, checks on Blue and blows her a kiss. Hunk is in the process of getting up himself but watches as Lance practically dances into the bathroom. Lance flips on the light switch and steps in front of the sink and mirror looking at his reflection; his brown hair mussed and some strands are sticking to the green face mask he puts on every night. The bags under his eyes that had formed over the past couple fitful nights were beginning to fade, making him look better rested and fresh. He washes off the face mask, splashing lukewarm water on his face, and after gently patting it dry with a yellow towel he winks at his reflection. While brushing his teeth, he starts to hum a song.

Hunk looks up from pulling on his boots to see Lance dancing back into the room, singing some pop song. He stares without moving a muscle, not wanting to do anything that might disrupt the scene, while Lance goes to his dresser and takes out his clothes for the day. And with his wand in hand, he dances back to the bathroom. The singing continues from behind the now closed door, Hunk still slightly bend sitting on his bed. He glances around the room for some explanation as to why his best friend is suddenly so ecstatic about beginning the day when, just last night, he'd seemed miserable. Not that Hunk is complaining, though. Absolutely not. He's glad to see Lance in a good mood again. It's been quite the challenge to get Lance out of bed in time for classes for a while, and it was starting to worry Hunk. What Lance had told them last night explained his behavior at least, and Hunk was relieved. Lance isn't the type of person to lay out all his worries and problems on the table. He makes a joke about it, tells people not to worry with a wavering, forces a smile, and the mischievous glint in his eyes goes missing.

Hunk is proud of Lance for coming to him and Pidge for advice. He hopes this trend would continue.

Behind the door Lance hits a high note, voice only cracking a bit, and Hunk laughs and shakes his head. A few seconds later Lance comes sliding out, in the middle of a dance move and the chorus of the song, fully dressed in his favorite white and blue shirt and jeans. He grabs his robe from the hanger and puts it on with a fancy twirl. Hunk grabs his clothes and follows Lance outside.

Does Lance stop dancing and singing? No. No, he does not.

Pidge is waiting for them at the end of the stair in the West grand hall but looks ready to bolt in the opposite direction when it became apparent to her that it was indeed Lance who was now doing a musical number. She looks at Hunk incredulously, but only gets a sheepish shrug from him.

Pidge looks shell shocked, but Lance just keeps on moving to the beat of his singing and passes her. Hunk stops beside her, and together they watch Lance shimmy to the dining hall for breakfast, other students moving around him in a big circle in case the crazies are contagious.

“Did he snap? Should I fear for my life, because you know he's gonna come for me first.” Pidge asks, and down the hallway, Lance started a new song.

Breakfast was uneventful, in comparison to the rest of the morning, and over rather quickly. Lance toned down to only the occasional humming and winked at maybe three girls; way less than usual. Before Lance knows it, they're walking to the East wing, and his body feels like it was thrumming. Magic Defense is one of Lance's favorite classes; he can use his magic freely there and in a safe environment. He remembers the first time he had that class.

It was two years ago, he didn't know Pidge that well back then and had just met Hunk, so he walked through the crowded hallways alone. The amount of people in the castle had overwhelmed him the first, and even though it was made big and spacious enough to house everyone, Lance had shrunk in on himself, clutching his books as a shield in front of him. He felt like a tiny fish in a full tank.

He went down the stairs to the basement, following the horde of classmates, into the Magic Defense classroom. It went down a far way, Balmera crystals and torches lighting the way. He had never admitted it, but he got the idea of being cattle led to the slaughterhouse, but he'd swallowed down nausea and kept going, focusing on a group of guys in front of him talking about all the amazing sounding spells they were looking forward to learning. Lance had felt pumped up and ready to kick ass by the time he walked through the wooden doors.

It looked like the practice rooms up in the North wing; Lance would later find out, with its round shape, high ceiling, and lack of any kind of furniture except for the chandelier and torches lining the wall. The students kept close to the walls, avoiding the professor standing in the middle, glaring at them as they walked in, like the plague. Professor Iverson looked like one mean son of a bitch. Lance stood squished between the others and waited patiently, albeit still a bit nervous. A low murmur filled the room, no one daring to go louder than a whisper.

At 9:00 A.M on the dot, Professor Iverson began. The booming of the doors closing echoed around the room, the sound vibrating through Lance's gut. Iverson stalked to back to the middle of the chamber, looking around calmly. He had taken a moment before he spoke, his voice low and throaty, and told how this class was going to work; he'd first explain a spell, give an example of how to do it if they were either fire element or a basic one. Otherwise, he'd have someone with him who could, like a talented senior. He looked at people in the eye as he told them he'd accept no backtalk, bullshit, or excuses. He expected everyone to participate without bitching about it.

By the end of the speech, no one spoke without having the go-ahead from Iverson.

At lunch that day Lance had seen many of Magic Defense classmates talking about the professor with wild hand gestures and looks on their faces that varied from afraid to angered, making the students who hadn't met Iverson yet fear for their lives and the seniors listened to them with an understanding smile.

But Lance has come a long way since then. He had friends and gotten into a lot of trouble with Iverson and while the man can make an adult burst out in tears – Lance has seen it happen –, Magic Defense has become one of his favorite classes ever since he'd conjured up a maelstrom. It had been amazing to see the water surrounding him, to feel it sing to him as he controlled it and it let him. He'd only succeeded in that once and hasn't been able to since. But the fact that Iverson and his class had seen it with their own eyes did positive things for Lance's reputation.

He stands with his back against the wall, the cold of the bricks seeping slowly into his skin, but he ignores it for a comfortable position. Pidge stood next to him with Hunk, talking about whatever spell they'd see today from Shiro. Hunk has his spell book open on an advanced wind spell, and they're both pointing to it and discussing whether or not it's 'impressive' enough for someone as talented as Shiro. Lance glances at the spell and doesn't think so.

“What about the spell on the next page?” He suggests, and Hunk flips the page. “You gotta admit, that one is a bit more impressive.”

“True,” Pidge says, pushing her glasses up her nose and tapping her foot. “It will look more impressive, but the other one requires more focus and control.”

“Well, I guess,” Lance admits. “But showing off is all about the visuals!”

They argue over the spells for a while longer, until Lance hears someone whisper 'there he is,' in an awed voice. He glances up from the spell book, and it seems that nearly everyone is staring at the doorway with bated breath. Lance straightens, arms unfolding, lips parting slightly. The noise dies down t heated whispers as Shiro walks into the room. If he's bothered by the stares, he doesn't show it.

“Whoa,” Hunk breathes out next to him.

“Yeah,” Lance agrees. His face morphs into something ugly when he sees who had come in by Shiro's side. “Oh jeez, not him.”

“Who?” Pidge asks.

“Keith,” Lance spits out the name like venom.

“I repeat: _'who_ '?”

Lance rolls his eyes and crosses his arms with a sneer. “Keith, you know, that fire witch everyone likes to praise even though he's a total dickbag?”

“Ooh, you mean the fire witch you're insanely jealous off and compete with even though he probably doesn't even know your name.”

“Yeah, that's the one,” Hunk snickers.

“N-no!” Lance sputters, offended by the mere thought of feeling anything for Keith beside hate. Pidge grins up at him anyway, and Lance pointedly refocuses his gaze on Shiro – doing his best to ignore Keith by his side. With his stupid mullet and stupid red boots he insists wearing, and his obnoxious black fingerless gloves. What year does this guy think it is? Keith mumbles something to Shiro, whose eyes dart around the room before chuckling.

Lance scowls. Pidge laughs at him.

Iverson arrives soon after, his stride long and confident, hands behind his back, chest puffed up. He takes his spot in the center of the room and begins his class. He starts with addressing the Shiro-sized elephant in the room, snapping the other students out of their staring. As soon as all the pairs of eyes fall off of him, Lance sees Shiro visibly relaxing.

He then continues with the spells he wants them to practice today. It's a spell every student can do regarding their element; conjure up a wall that's as high as the ceiling. Lance gulps, and he looks up. Three giants could stack up on each other and still be just unable to touch the wooden beams running along the ceiling. So, great. Conjure up a wall of water or ice the size of three houses. He can do that, right? Right. Probably.

Shiro goes first – Iverson grumbling something about 'getting it over with.' Shiro takes Iverson's spot as the rest of the class move to behind him as to not get in the way. Lance peers over the heads in front of him as Shiro lifts up his hands, fingers splayed open, and closes his eyes in concentration.

It's quiet then. No one daring to make a sound or even to breathe loudly, Hunk even going as far as not breathing at all – before he has to. Lance doesn't blink, doesn't move a muscle – only watches as the familiar sound of electricity sparking fills the room. He hears the surprised intake of breaths around him when the sparks flying off Shiro's hands are not green like normal, but a vibrant purple. After the initial shock of the color, the silence returns like a blanket cast over them.

The sparks grow suddenly, Shiro pushes his arms out, and his magic is released - the wall taking shape immediately. Lance's robes and hair are being blown around by the wall of wind magic standing tall and secure. They can see the magical currents: the purple of the sparks reappearing in them subtly. Shiro lowers his hands, confident that the wind wall won't collapse and turns to face Iverson.

“Well done,” Iverson says, albeit grudgingly. “Next!”

Shiro flicks a hand and the wall bursts, mussing up Lance's hair one more time, but he doesn't even care because – holy shit. That was incredible. Pidge whistles, impressed by Shiro's skills.

They go by alphabetic order, so before Lance gets his turn, he watches how Hunk and Pidge (and Keith, dammit) all manage to conjure up the wall. Hunk's wall falters a little as it rises from the ground, but he gets it right when he takes a steadying breath in and out. Lance feels proud and high-fives his buddy after Iverson deems the wall 'good enough.' Pidge has less trouble with her wall than Hunk, and she returns to her spot with a smug smile.

When it's Keith's turn Lance glares at his back. Lance also glares at the red sparks and the wand in Keith's hand. And he absolutely glares at the controlled fire blazing up.

“Next!” Iverson barks and then, suddenly, it's Lance's turn. He switches places with a wind witch and takes out his wand. Its dark oak feels light and familiar in his hand, and it calms his nerves a bit. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat as he lifts his wand and closes his eyes.

_Focus._

_You can do this._

_Come one, Lance._

He feels the flicker of his magic as he directs it to his wand. He feels how it acknowledges what Lance needs from it, what it needs to become. He feels how it build up as it courses through his right arm – Lance's whole body can feel that. It gives him a rush. His magic feeds off of Lance's excitement, and it sings. His blood rushes through his veins, and his magic reaches his fingers. The transition from his fingers to his wand has been better. His magic stutters, almost like it trips and nearly falls flat on its face but manages to keep itself upright in the end.

So far so good. Now, Lance has to guide it into the shape it needs to be. He visualizes the wall of water. Can almost hear the sound of rushing water. This is going well. He can see the blue sparks behind his eyelids. But, it's then that his magic falters. Where it tries to but, ultimately, it can't.

Lance has to gasp for breath when it suddenly dies down, retreating into him. His eyes snap open, and he sees managed to make a wall about as tall as himself before it crumbles, water coating the floor.

_Crap. No. Not again_.

He spins on his heels and faces the class. He sees pitying looks, ones that desperately try to stay neutral, people that avoid him. But the ones that stand out are the ones laughing. The giggles, even though they are being hidden by hands or disguised as awkward coughs, pierce his heart, and it hurts.

Hunk and Pidge look at him, but before they can even take a step towards him, the laugh escape their hiding places, and Lance's feet take him out of the room automatically. He hears Iverson order him to stay, but he shoulders through the crowd and the door. He runs up the stairs, ignores the burn in his legs, and goes to the only place he feels can calm him down: the lake.

In record time he stops at the edge of the pier. He heaves deeply and looks at the rippling water. It takes him a few seconds, but it does the trick. He can breathe again, can relax his shoulders and sit down. His brain doesn't get the memo about calming the fuck down because suddenly it goes haywire.

What's going to happen now? Every saw what happened. He screwed up a simple spell, and everyone in the school will know about Lance's failure by sundown. What should he do he can't do anything can he? It's all hopeless. His family will be so disappointed-

“Lance!”

He startles. Who the hell? He turns to look over his shoulder and finds – holy crap – Shiro walk up to him, Hunk and Pidge staying behind on the grass. They're concerned, but keep their distance, for now, giving Shiro time to..do what exactly?

“Are you alright?” he asks as he sits down next to Lance.

“Yeah,” Lance scoffs. “Just peachy.”

Shiro sighs and runs a hand through his short hair. “Listen. What happened in there must have been horrible.”

“Understatement of the year..”

“Right,” Shiro chuckles.

But before he can say something else Lance beats him to it. “What are you doing here? I mean, not to be ungrateful or anything but it's not like we actually talked a lot in the past.” Which is true. Lance can count on one hand the times he had spoken to Shiro before the Cerberus mission. But he has to admit that those talks were pretty nice.

“True, but you didn't look so good when you left, and I wanted to make sure you'd be okay.”

Damnit. Why is Shiro such a good guy? Lance just wants to be alone, but no he can't snap at the man sitting next to him because then he'd be a total jerk. So he says nothing, just nods solemnly with a shrug. “I'll be fine.”

“Look,” Shiro begins. “I've had problems with my magic too some years ago.” Lance looks at him in the corner of his eyes; intrigued and curious. Shiro must see the doubt lingering in Lance's eyes, though, as he says, “I swear. I've had the same trouble as you; disconnection, right?”

Lance nods. “Yeah, it's been going on for a couple of months now, and it's driving me crazy.”

“Yeah,” Shiro laughs. “It'll do that to you. Do you have any idea what's going on with your magic, why it's not connecting with you?”

Lance shakes his head, “Nope. Not a clue. I just woke up one day and it felt..off. And it all went down south after that – I mean, you saw what happened down there. I couldn't even do a spell that used to be easy for me.”

“I know it's difficult, Lance, but you have to hold on. I did, and I got my magic back in time. There isn't a quick fix, unfortunately. Give yourself some time.”

“I guess you're right,” Lance says. Maybe Shiro is right. Maybe he just needs some more time and not force it too much. Lance looks at him to ask him some more about how he had dealt with it in the past, but before he can even open his mouth, another voice calls out.

“Just leave it, Shiro.”

Lance groans dramatically because of course, of course, Keith had to come in and ruin the pep talk Shiro was giving him. Lance glares at him where he's standing on the grass with his arms crossed, hip slightly cocked to the side. He returns Lance's glare with a nasty scowl of his own. What is this guy's deal anyway?

“Keith,” Shiro reprimands, but it only makes Keith roll his eyes.

“We've got classes to go to, remember,” Keith says. “And this guy is obviously not gonna solve his magical disconnection anytime soon.”

“What's that supposed to mean, mullet brain!” Lance barks and stands up.

“Exactly what is sounds like.”

“You little shit!” Lance growls, fists clenched. “Explain to me why I'm, supposedly, not going to solve my magic problems, your doucheness.”

Keith clicks his tongue. “Fine. You won't fix it because you're, somehow, thinking too much.”

That does not make any sense. Lance tells him so with his arms flapping wildly, voice climbing in octaves because what the fuck? “So you can kindly fuck off with your 'great' advice!”

“Whatever,” Keith huffs, dismissing Lance and it only makes him angrier.

He's flying high on adrenaline and emotion, and it's the only reason he's not thinking straight as he yells: “Fight me!”

“What?”

“You heard me: fight me!” He would've like to add a menacing 'bitch' at the end there, but Lance is classy and keeps it for a different day. “Right now.” he draws his wand to show Keith how serious he is.

“What the hell?!” Keith looks at Shiro for help, which is exactly when Lance strikes. He flicks his wand and Keith barely dodges the stream of water. Keith grunts as he lands in the grass, but recovers quickly, almost instinctively, and gets up with his wand ready. He shrugs off his robes, leaving him in a tight t-shirt and even tighter skinny jeans.

“Guys?” Pidge calls out. “Maybe this isn't the time or place?”

“Y-yeah,” Hunk agrees nervously. “Lance, I don't think this is a good idea.”

“Psh, it'll be fine.” another water stream falls down which Keith dodges..again.

“You'll have to come up with something better than that.” Keith taunts, and in the blink of an eye, three fireballs are hurtling towards Lance. He deflects them with a stream of water that rushes out from his wand. The fireballs and water meet halfway, and steam arises when they collide. Lance knows beating Keith in a battle is going to be a long shot. He's a fire witch after all. You'd have to be very skilled to beat someone with an element opposing. And with the disconnection, Lance will most likely be on his ass in 10 seconds, but damn it! If he's going down, he'll go down swinging.

He hears Pidge, Hunk, and even Shiro protesting against this impromptu battle, but neither witch stops. They hurl their magic at each other; Lance in anger, and Keith not willing to back down from a fight. By the third time, Keith has to jump aside to dodge yet another narrow stream of water Lance can see he's getting tired of this battle.

“This is ridiculous!” Keith yells out as conjures a circle of fire around himself to block the water. “Just give up already.”

“Fuck off!”

Keith grits his teeth. “Do you, honestly think you can win this? I'm holding back, you know!”

This pisses Lance off even more. “Don't fucking patronize me, dude! Go all out!”

A part of Lance highly doubts that Keith would do it; send his strongest spell at Lance. It's honestly one of the reasons he told Keith to go right the fuck ahead – the other being sheer adrenaline and a side of stupidity and need to prove himself somehow. But then Keith does it, and Lance curses his mouth and before he knows it a tower of fire forms in the grass and it's heading his way at a steady pace. Lance feels the heat it emanates from where he's temporarily frozen in place – half in awe, half full-out panicking. Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro yell out a warning, all of them beginning to run forward, wands drawn, words ready on their lips for a spell. Theoretically, Hunk and Pidge have the most chance to defeat fire, but that doesn't stop Shiro from moving in.

But before they can reach him, before they can say the words out loud, Lance moves. His magic moves. It comes to life, bursting up from it's resting place to flow, and it's all on instinct. They know what to do. What they want and need.

And with a flick of his wand and the right words flying out of his mouth Lance strikes. The whirlpool Lance makes is big, and with a loud, angry hiss it extinguishes the fire. Lance's brain catches up with what he just pulled off and can only stare slack-jawed as the whirlpool loses shape; drenching the grass into a soggy mess and splashing Keith. It's silent as everyone processes what happened, but Lance is the first to break the silence.

“Holy crap!” He yells, a broad smile creeping up on his face because, what! That was an advanced level spell which he only did once before, and even then he needed all of his concentration and no distraction. And now he just did it. Conjuring up that whirlpool felt as familiar as breathing for a moment; as if he performed that spell a dozen times before. Lance jumps up and down, laughing, and turns to Hunk and Pidge. “Did you guys see that?!”

They nod, dumbfounded.

Lance turns to Shiro who has a soft smile on his face and an 'I told you so' look in his eyes. Keith sputters and wipes the water from his face. His clothes are soaking wet, but with a wave of his wand, he evaporates the water. He looks disgruntled as he crossed his arms.

“How'd ya like that, mullet boy!?” Lance cackles, hands poised on him hips. Yeah, he's feeling pretty damn proud of himself, he'll admit it. Keith shoots him an unamused glare making Lance cackle some more. Shiro pats him on the shoulder when he walks by to join Keath stomping back to the school. Hunk and Pidge come up to him, and they start gushing about the spell. They're happy. They understand this fills Lance with the hope he was slowly losing. If he can make a whirlpool with almost no effort, he can get connected to his magic again since it's still there, just hidden.

“You know what,” Lance interrupts the cheers. The adrenaline rush is crashing and his knees quiver, but he has to say this out loud. He wants to let Hunk and Pidge know he's dead set on this. “I-”

“You're going to compete in the Trials!” Pidge exclaims excited, cutting Lance off unceremoniously. He would've chased after her, trying to smack her upper arms for stealing his moment, but his legs give out, and with a huff, he sinks to the ground. It's still cold and wet, and it's seeping into his clothes, but he doesn't care. He laughs, relieved and happy with how his day has turned around for the better.

The only down point being no one else was there to witness Lance kicking Keith's butt.

 

* * *

 

_Oh, no._

_No. No, no, no, no, please no._

Lance is looking down to his hands where he's holding the letter given to him by Professor Coran earlier today. It's the letter with the name of the person he's paired up with for the Trials.

He signed up for the Trials two days ago and got a good look at his competition and potential partners. He saw Shiro, who smiled at him and waved, with Keith, who glared and looked away. It wasn't a surprise to Lance they'd decided to enter. Nyma was delighted to see him and gave him a spontaneous hug which might have made him slightly lightheaded for a minute there. She told him how she still hoped to be partnered up with him even though she'd been able to convince Rolo to sign up too.

There were a lot of people who were going to do the Trials – 30 people! So, how in the bloody hell did Lance end up with the one person he hates most of all? Lance glares at Keith's name on the piece of paper, cursing his bad luck and everyone who are responsible for this mess. Pidge looks over and begins laughing when she sees the name as if this is the best thing ever to happen.

“Maybe this is a good thing?” Hunk tries and Lance shoots him a look. “Maybe he can help with your magic seeing what happened at the lake?”

Good point. “But why _him_? Why not some other fire witch? I can argue with more than one person! Or why not pair me up with a loving and supportive person-”

“Like Nyma?” Pidge teases.

“-Yes! Like Nyma.” Lance slumps down into his desk chair, his head falling back and lets out an exasperated groan. “Or why not Allura!”

“The headmaster's daughter?” Hunk asks before a knock on the door catches his attention, and he gets up from his bed to open the door.

“Yeah!” Lance continues matter-of-factly. “She's an amazing air witch with a lot of talent. And her looks! I swear that girl is beautiful-” Lance interrupts himself as none other than Keith stands in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

Keith waved a piece of paper – his letter with Lance's name on it – and isn't looking all too happy about it. “If we're going to be partners, we're going to have to do something about your magic since I am not going to lose this because of you screwing up. Now let's go.” And with that said he turns on the heels of his boots and stomps away, entirely convinced Lance will follow. Lance can already feel the annoyed spark of his magic rising even though Keith's presence only lasted one minute. Lance is confident nothing good can come from this as he gets up and reluctantly goes off to find Keith so they can yell at each other some more. Only anger, despair, and death. In that order.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Come talk klance with me! [Tumblr](https://mysoulneedsklance.tumblr.com/)


End file.
